Chapter 38 --- Helpless
Sam was strolling easily down the corridors of the Last Homely House. Vaulted ceilings loomed over him reminding the gardener of the deep bowers of an ancient tree. The smooth, carven wood, engraved with twisting, twining creatures and vines was something out of a child's tale. High above him Sam saw the arched windows, pierced with silver shafts of light. It was a clear morning and the home was alight with its white light. The fine gossamer tapestries, pooled like things of silver, woven with clear beads and drops of pearl. Sam was moving at a slightly quicker pace than leisure. He had been persuaded to attend breakfast by Merry and Pippin and he was eager to return to his master's side.
As he passed through the halls, the wooden walls and beams, curving gracefully reminded him slightly of home. The grand size and ancient delicateness of the tapestries and carvings were not to be overlooked of course. This was definitely not a hobbit hole. But it did not have the grand, almost dream-like quality of Lothlorien. A place of golden leaves and massive mallorn trees whose roots, so ancient and twined formed fissures of dusty silver, wherefore a weary hobbit could lie his head and dream of blankets and pillows made all of stars. Sam closed his eyes in reverent memory. And when he would rouse to his soft grey bed of turf he would not find his dream untrue, for areigned in silver dew he'd wake and the light of stars shone and glimmered there in.
Yes this was someplace between the dream and waking. This was not quite home and not so foreign and magical as Lorien. Sam quickly turned down the corridor and entered the room he shared with Frodo. Bilbo was where he was when Sam left them but the old hobbit seemed now terribly distraught. His hands were on Frodo's shoulders, shaking him gently and Bilbo was sobbing, mumbling something that sounded clearer as Sam came closer. "Please don't be angry with me, my boy! Please forgive me! Oh but if you would only speak to me, even if it were an unkind word!"
"Master Bilbo!" cried Sam, hurrying to his side.
Bilbo turned away from Sam. "It is my fault, he's right to be hateful toward me."
"Frodo's not hateful to you, sir," Sam began a little shrilly. "He's not hateful to no one."
"He won't speak to me, nigh a word. He just stares at me... he just stares," wept the old hobbit. Sam patted his back gently. He looked from Bilbo to Frodo who had fallen into his pillow and promptly began weeping for the fright of it all.
Sam bit his lip and chastised himself. "You old block headed Gamgee!" he thought bitterly. "You should have known better than this, leaving Bilbo to watch over Frodo while he slept. Frodo was bound to wake up and even more likely Bilbo was bound to forget... again." Sam thought he just might shout if he had to explain one more time, he thought he might weep himself dry if he had to tell that wretched tale again. Merry and Pippin, try as they might, to explain precisely what happened over and over found it difficult enough. It was nigh torture to Samwise.
"Master Bilbo, please remember. I told you about what happened to your old ring."
"Yes of course," said Bilbo, righting himself in his chair. "But Frodo..."
"And what happened on the way up the mountain, what Gollum did. Do you remember any of that, sir? The water..." Sam paused, unable to continue and hoping beyond hope that was enough to jog the old hobbit's memory.
"Yes, yes," Bilbo waved his hand absently. "But what's happened to Frodo? Why won't he..."
"He can't," Sam sighed a little too sternly for his own liking.
"Nonsense."
Sam stifled an exasperated sigh but it seemed only to transform into a mournful moan. Bilbo seemed in brighter spirits though, as if he had forgotten everything that had just happened. "Buck up lad," said Bilbo. "Frodo will be put to rights in some time. He just needs a spot of rest and some nourishment. Now where is Elrond?"
"Frodo ate, sir. I saw to that." Sam now directed his attention to Frodo who was squirming to hide within the sanctity of his pillow. Sam pulled at him gently. "Don't do that, sir," he whispered. "Stop, you'll smother yourself." Frodo did not seem to hear and even if he did Sam knew he'd understand none of it. This time Sam had to grasp both of Frodo's shoulders firmly and pull him from the pillow. Frodo tossed in Sam's grasp, his eyes clenched shut as if he was bracing pain. His fight was growing stronger, more desperate, Sam reached over and clamped an arm over Frodo's chest so he would not pitch forward. He pulled Frodo into his arms and leaned over to speak directly into Frodo's ear. "Shhh, Sam's here. You've nothing to fear when I'm around."
Frodo's groans and small cries were becoming shriller, he kicked, throwing Sam back. Bilbo jumped back, a little too quick for his old bones to allow. He let out a shout as a shot of pain jumped up his back. Soft, swift footsteps were heard along the hall. Elrond appeared in the doorway just as Frodo was beginning to register the voice in his ear was his protector.
"You don't have anything to fear, Frodo, not while I'm hear. I'll keep you safe, just please be calm. Peace, master, you've nothing to fear." Frodo was breathing heavily, his chest heaving in slight, frail gasps as he fell back into Sam's arms. His curly head lolled against Sam's shoulder for a moment, his eyes once wild with fear were dull now and weary. The dim, vacant confusion was now powerfully evident in his eyes. Elrond entered and stood beside the bed, not liking what he saw.
Elrond realized something then as he watched Frodo's eyes become clouded. He seemed to surrender easily to his own imprisonment now. That was far from good. He was becoming comfortable, accepting this existence. And why wouldn't he? His every attempt to understand was nigh fruitless and only left him tired, frustrated, and sometimes in pain. Why would he need to try any more if he could be safe and cared for? Sam had indeed helped improve Frodo's condition but now, now he was holding Frodo back. Frodo's reliance on Sam was keeping him from breaking free.
Breaking free. Elrond knew now that it was something Frodo could only do for himself. And of his attempts or any others would bring Frodo only more pain and confusion and ultimately his destruction. Gandalf was right. The wizard had said he spoke once to Frodo that he could not force him to give up the Ring. It would break his mind. Forcing the Ring from Frodo is not the path that must be taken to save the hobbit. But perhaps if Frodo saw that he was far from safe, even with Sam, he would grow again to fear his position and strive to break himself free.
The room was calm now, almost eerily silent save for Frodo's breathing which was beginning to even. Elrond cast his gaze upon Frodo's empty, cloudy eyes for a moment then examined the expressions of both Sam and Bilbo. He first went to Bilbo and whispered comfort to him before ushering him out of the room. With the door closed behind him, Elrond then approached Sam. "I have decided. We shall try one last time to break Frodo free of his prison. Will you allow this, Samwise?"
Sam did not look up, his head was bent and one arm was wrapped around Frodo's torso while his other hand rested on Frodo's chest as it rose and fell as if the gardener was striving to keep the quick beating heart in its place. A small, nearly imperceptible nod and Elrond quickly began. He knew that Frodo would become quickly and unnaturally cold again and this time he was prepared. He quickly ordered a warm bath to be drawn and sent for Gandalf. The wizard came quickly, knowing Elrond's mind before he even stepped in. Sam helped lay Frodo flat on the bed and took a position near him, bracing himself to hold his master down so he would not fall. Elrond offered to send for Merry and Pippin to assist the gardener but Sam steadfastly refused. He assured them that he was capable of holding his master down and would not be swayed otherwise.
They began their last attempt. Frodo was quickly hushed at first, as if he had fallen into a deathly sleep. He already grew cold and pale and in time his fingers began to twitch. Sam braced himself. Frodo's lax expression tightened, laced with pain, his cheek twitched slightly and his eyes roved frantically beneath his closed lids. Icy sweat took him like a wave. Sam felt the trembling hand in his go cold and the soft curls that framed his master like an ebony crown grew darker and clung to his face. The next thing Sam could hardly bear to listen to.
First low, then growing, rising from deep within his master, from a darkness unseen and unfelt in the waking world, small pathetic cries were heard. Sam made no words out of them and was not sure if they were meant to be so or not. They were so small, like a child's but full of such anguish that no child could know. Sam wondered if they were cries to long dead parents or pleas to a master that torments him still. The gardener could not bear it. He threw himself over his master's prone form and wept in his grief. Elrond paused for a moment in his task and Gandalf waited but the elf lord simply shook his head and they continued.
Frodo's now rapidly twitching hands quickly clawed at the bed, they began to tear through the sheets before he dug them in deeply and gripped the mattress desperately. His eyes flung open and stared up unseeingly. Tears fell down the sides of his face, his lips curled over his teeth as a small stream of drool accompanied the silver streaks of tears on his bloodless face. Sam felt it before it was heard. A deep quivering that started somewhere deep in Frodo, trembling as it spread through his body like a wave of ice, rooting in his bones. It filled him utterly until it ran up his spine and caught slightly in his throat. Frodo arched his back in an attempt to force this demonic winter from him and finally it tore through his lips, shattering the air like glass. A long, agonizing scream.
Somewhere in the Last Homely House Merry and Pippin leapt to their feet as if they had just been called to battle, fear lit their eyes as if they looked upon death itself and once they freed themselves from the chilling spell a shudder and a grimace ran through them both before they turned to each other, tears already upon their cheeks.
Somewhere in Lothlorien the Lady Galadriel stumbled slightly in her smooth gait and placed her slender hand upon a tree for support as she looked mournfully untoward the West.
Somewhere in the Wild an elf and a dwarf walked side by side and looked at each other in fear and apprehension, their journey delayed for that moment.
Somewhere on the road to Gondor the King halted his entire company and turned his steed West. Almost panic stricken he rode fiercely to the crest of a hill and looked about wildly until a voice from one of his men called to him. He paused and then turned back.
Somewhere in a vast bedchamber in Minas Tirith the Queen bowed her head and wept into her hands as a cold wind from the balcony let fly the shadows of her hair.
Somewhere upon the road from Gondor a young, exhausted healer fell from his horse and lay motionless in the dust in the road.
Sam leapt from his position, lying stricken across his master and grabbed hold of Elrond's arm. He began begging, pleading for him to stop. Frodo's form was stilling. Sam screamed, begged, wept. "He's dyin'! He's dyin'! Stop this, please stop this!"
Frodo was still as a stone upon the bed now and Sam pulled Elrond roughly, burying his face in the elf lord's hand. What Sam did not know was that Elrond stopped long ago. Frodo's eyes fluttered open and he looked about, tears still streaming from them. He turned his gaze to see his protector utterly undone. He was pulling at Elrond's arm fit to bring the elf down to the floor. He was sobbing and wailing shrilly, his jumbled words a mix of pathetic pleas.
Frodo's expression of pain turned to that of absolute terror. He rose to his elbows, pain now forgotten for what he saw before him was beyond such pain. Frodo began shaking his head in denial. It could not be, this could never be, this should not be. But it was. His protector, the one who was fit to drive away all shadows and beat back any fears was completely, utterly, and undeniably... helpless.
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A/N: Well I did promise a speedy update to make up for the lost time. I will also be disappearing for a week for vacation so the next update may be a little slow. I apologize to those whose stories I normally review, I promise to catch up when I get back.
Breon Briarwood – Well I doubt this could be called a proper meeting and I don't have a detailed explanation for Bilbo. I'm afraid recapping would just be backtracking and inevitably slowing down the course of the story. Sorry but I do hope you are enjoying.
Stoneage – Sorry "In Dreams Worlds Wait" will have to wait until I get back. I do have an ending mapped out though I have to admit it is rather self indulgent in a way and most people probably won't like it. But sometimes an author's just got to indulge in oneself. Fear not, I will be continued and is almost done anyway. Many thanks for the compliment.
Laurajslr – I'm sorry I haven't reviewed the latest chapter to your story, fact is I haven't even got a chance to read it and I won't until I get back. I promise to catch up with reviews. That line was one of my favorites too. Short and very strong. Any novels that happen to be floating in my head I suppose can be considered top secret, in fact most of them haven't even let me in on it yet. Very frustrating plots are, stubborn as hobbits if you ask me.
Leia Wood – Well for starters I'm very glad you are enjoying my story and as for whatever I plan to get published I am still very unsure about it. Mainly it began as a completely 2D character personifying my own eccentricities about control and plots centered around such are very rarely stable so it would need a lot of fleshing out. It will probably not be fantasy, though that is normally my favorite genre it will be a while before I flesh out enough geography, history, and ::gulp:: language before I can start on my fantasy world.
Endymion2 – I happen to be going on vacation as well, another reason why I wanted to get this up so quick. I'm proud of myself for pounding it out so quickly and I'm pretty satisfied. And, yes, I'd definitely say that Frodo is making progress, especially in this chapter though that will be made clearer in the chapters to come.
ShireElf – Ah, you are catching on very quickly indeed. I'm glad you are paying attention. "Will Frodo learn not to be so dependent on Sam?" Well he may be forced to learn now won't he? Things will be made clearer in chapters to come.
Frodo's Gal – I'm glad you are enjoying both my fics. I hope your family liked "In Dreams Worlds Wait" as well. It should be done soon, much sooner than this story anyway. Enjoy!
Ailsa Joy – Yes that was one of my favorite lines as well. You reviewed this just in time. I was just about to put up this chapter when I got your review. Heh maybe you'll read this chapter in the same night, more procrastination anyone? But homework!? Is it not Summer for you? I've just been enjoying the past half a month locked up in my room with a random assortment of Arias, Rachmaninov, and Mozart reading and writing like mad. Surely you should do the same. I'd say it's good for your sanity but I doubt mine is the average desired mental state. ::serene smile::
Sam was strolling easily down the corridors of the Last Homely House. Vaulted ceilings loomed over him reminding the gardener of the deep bowers of an ancient tree. The smooth, carven wood, engraved with twisting, twining creatures and vines was something out of a child's tale. High above him Sam saw the arched windows, pierced with silver shafts of light. It was a clear morning and the home was alight with its white light. The fine gossamer tapestries, pooled like things of silver, woven with clear beads and drops of pearl. Sam was moving at a slightly quicker pace than leisure. He had been persuaded to attend breakfast by Merry and Pippin and he was eager to return to his master's side.
As he passed through the halls, the wooden walls and beams, curving gracefully reminded him slightly of home. The grand size and ancient delicateness of the tapestries and carvings were not to be overlooked of course. This was definitely not a hobbit hole. But it did not have the grand, almost dream-like quality of Lothlorien. A place of golden leaves and massive mallorn trees whose roots, so ancient and twined formed fissures of dusty silver, wherefore a weary hobbit could lie his head and dream of blankets and pillows made all of stars. Sam closed his eyes in reverent memory. And when he would rouse to his soft grey bed of turf he would not find his dream untrue, for areigned in silver dew he'd wake and the light of stars shone and glimmered there in.
Yes this was someplace between the dream and waking. This was not quite home and not so foreign and magical as Lorien. Sam quickly turned down the corridor and entered the room he shared with Frodo. Bilbo was where he was when Sam left them but the old hobbit seemed now terribly distraught. His hands were on Frodo's shoulders, shaking him gently and Bilbo was sobbing, mumbling something that sounded clearer as Sam came closer. "Please don't be angry with me, my boy! Please forgive me! Oh but if you would only speak to me, even if it were an unkind word!"
"Master Bilbo!" cried Sam, hurrying to his side.
Bilbo turned away from Sam. "It is my fault, he's right to be hateful toward me."
"Frodo's not hateful to you, sir," Sam began a little shrilly. "He's not hateful to no one."
"He won't speak to me, nigh a word. He just stares at me... he just stares," wept the old hobbit. Sam patted his back gently. He looked from Bilbo to Frodo who had fallen into his pillow and promptly began weeping for the fright of it all.
Sam bit his lip and chastised himself. "You old block headed Gamgee!" he thought bitterly. "You should have known better than this, leaving Bilbo to watch over Frodo while he slept. Frodo was bound to wake up and even more likely Bilbo was bound to forget... again." Sam thought he just might shout if he had to explain one more time, he thought he might weep himself dry if he had to tell that wretched tale again. Merry and Pippin, try as they might, to explain precisely what happened over and over found it difficult enough. It was nigh torture to Samwise.
"Master Bilbo, please remember. I told you about what happened to your old ring."
"Yes of course," said Bilbo, righting himself in his chair. "But Frodo..."
"And what happened on the way up the mountain, what Gollum did. Do you remember any of that, sir? The water..." Sam paused, unable to continue and hoping beyond hope that was enough to jog the old hobbit's memory.
"Yes, yes," Bilbo waved his hand absently. "But what's happened to Frodo? Why won't he..."
"He can't," Sam sighed a little too sternly for his own liking.
"Nonsense."
Sam stifled an exasperated sigh but it seemed only to transform into a mournful moan. Bilbo seemed in brighter spirits though, as if he had forgotten everything that had just happened. "Buck up lad," said Bilbo. "Frodo will be put to rights in some time. He just needs a spot of rest and some nourishment. Now where is Elrond?"
"Frodo ate, sir. I saw to that." Sam now directed his attention to Frodo who was squirming to hide within the sanctity of his pillow. Sam pulled at him gently. "Don't do that, sir," he whispered. "Stop, you'll smother yourself." Frodo did not seem to hear and even if he did Sam knew he'd understand none of it. This time Sam had to grasp both of Frodo's shoulders firmly and pull him from the pillow. Frodo tossed in Sam's grasp, his eyes clenched shut as if he was bracing pain. His fight was growing stronger, more desperate, Sam reached over and clamped an arm over Frodo's chest so he would not pitch forward. He pulled Frodo into his arms and leaned over to speak directly into Frodo's ear. "Shhh, Sam's here. You've nothing to fear when I'm around."
Frodo's groans and small cries were becoming shriller, he kicked, throwing Sam back. Bilbo jumped back, a little too quick for his old bones to allow. He let out a shout as a shot of pain jumped up his back. Soft, swift footsteps were heard along the hall. Elrond appeared in the doorway just as Frodo was beginning to register the voice in his ear was his protector.
"You don't have anything to fear, Frodo, not while I'm hear. I'll keep you safe, just please be calm. Peace, master, you've nothing to fear." Frodo was breathing heavily, his chest heaving in slight, frail gasps as he fell back into Sam's arms. His curly head lolled against Sam's shoulder for a moment, his eyes once wild with fear were dull now and weary. The dim, vacant confusion was now powerfully evident in his eyes. Elrond entered and stood beside the bed, not liking what he saw.
Elrond realized something then as he watched Frodo's eyes become clouded. He seemed to surrender easily to his own imprisonment now. That was far from good. He was becoming comfortable, accepting this existence. And why wouldn't he? His every attempt to understand was nigh fruitless and only left him tired, frustrated, and sometimes in pain. Why would he need to try any more if he could be safe and cared for? Sam had indeed helped improve Frodo's condition but now, now he was holding Frodo back. Frodo's reliance on Sam was keeping him from breaking free.
Breaking free. Elrond knew now that it was something Frodo could only do for himself. And of his attempts or any others would bring Frodo only more pain and confusion and ultimately his destruction. Gandalf was right. The wizard had said he spoke once to Frodo that he could not force him to give up the Ring. It would break his mind. Forcing the Ring from Frodo is not the path that must be taken to save the hobbit. But perhaps if Frodo saw that he was far from safe, even with Sam, he would grow again to fear his position and strive to break himself free.
The room was calm now, almost eerily silent save for Frodo's breathing which was beginning to even. Elrond cast his gaze upon Frodo's empty, cloudy eyes for a moment then examined the expressions of both Sam and Bilbo. He first went to Bilbo and whispered comfort to him before ushering him out of the room. With the door closed behind him, Elrond then approached Sam. "I have decided. We shall try one last time to break Frodo free of his prison. Will you allow this, Samwise?"
Sam did not look up, his head was bent and one arm was wrapped around Frodo's torso while his other hand rested on Frodo's chest as it rose and fell as if the gardener was striving to keep the quick beating heart in its place. A small, nearly imperceptible nod and Elrond quickly began. He knew that Frodo would become quickly and unnaturally cold again and this time he was prepared. He quickly ordered a warm bath to be drawn and sent for Gandalf. The wizard came quickly, knowing Elrond's mind before he even stepped in. Sam helped lay Frodo flat on the bed and took a position near him, bracing himself to hold his master down so he would not fall. Elrond offered to send for Merry and Pippin to assist the gardener but Sam steadfastly refused. He assured them that he was capable of holding his master down and would not be swayed otherwise.
They began their last attempt. Frodo was quickly hushed at first, as if he had fallen into a deathly sleep. He already grew cold and pale and in time his fingers began to twitch. Sam braced himself. Frodo's lax expression tightened, laced with pain, his cheek twitched slightly and his eyes roved frantically beneath his closed lids. Icy sweat took him like a wave. Sam felt the trembling hand in his go cold and the soft curls that framed his master like an ebony crown grew darker and clung to his face. The next thing Sam could hardly bear to listen to.
First low, then growing, rising from deep within his master, from a darkness unseen and unfelt in the waking world, small pathetic cries were heard. Sam made no words out of them and was not sure if they were meant to be so or not. They were so small, like a child's but full of such anguish that no child could know. Sam wondered if they were cries to long dead parents or pleas to a master that torments him still. The gardener could not bear it. He threw himself over his master's prone form and wept in his grief. Elrond paused for a moment in his task and Gandalf waited but the elf lord simply shook his head and they continued.
Frodo's now rapidly twitching hands quickly clawed at the bed, they began to tear through the sheets before he dug them in deeply and gripped the mattress desperately. His eyes flung open and stared up unseeingly. Tears fell down the sides of his face, his lips curled over his teeth as a small stream of drool accompanied the silver streaks of tears on his bloodless face. Sam felt it before it was heard. A deep quivering that started somewhere deep in Frodo, trembling as it spread through his body like a wave of ice, rooting in his bones. It filled him utterly until it ran up his spine and caught slightly in his throat. Frodo arched his back in an attempt to force this demonic winter from him and finally it tore through his lips, shattering the air like glass. A long, agonizing scream.
Somewhere in the Last Homely House Merry and Pippin leapt to their feet as if they had just been called to battle, fear lit their eyes as if they looked upon death itself and once they freed themselves from the chilling spell a shudder and a grimace ran through them both before they turned to each other, tears already upon their cheeks.
Somewhere in Lothlorien the Lady Galadriel stumbled slightly in her smooth gait and placed her slender hand upon a tree for support as she looked mournfully untoward the West.
Somewhere in the Wild an elf and a dwarf walked side by side and looked at each other in fear and apprehension, their journey delayed for that moment.
Somewhere on the road to Gondor the King halted his entire company and turned his steed West. Almost panic stricken he rode fiercely to the crest of a hill and looked about wildly until a voice from one of his men called to him. He paused and then turned back.
Somewhere in a vast bedchamber in Minas Tirith the Queen bowed her head and wept into her hands as a cold wind from the balcony let fly the shadows of her hair.
Somewhere upon the road from Gondor a young, exhausted healer fell from his horse and lay motionless in the dust in the road.
Sam leapt from his position, lying stricken across his master and grabbed hold of Elrond's arm. He began begging, pleading for him to stop. Frodo's form was stilling. Sam screamed, begged, wept. "He's dyin'! He's dyin'! Stop this, please stop this!"
Frodo was still as a stone upon the bed now and Sam pulled Elrond roughly, burying his face in the elf lord's hand. What Sam did not know was that Elrond stopped long ago. Frodo's eyes fluttered open and he looked about, tears still streaming from them. He turned his gaze to see his protector utterly undone. He was pulling at Elrond's arm fit to bring the elf down to the floor. He was sobbing and wailing shrilly, his jumbled words a mix of pathetic pleas.
Frodo's expression of pain turned to that of absolute terror. He rose to his elbows, pain now forgotten for what he saw before him was beyond such pain. Frodo began shaking his head in denial. It could not be, this could never be, this should not be. But it was. His protector, the one who was fit to drive away all shadows and beat back any fears was completely, utterly, and undeniably... helpless.
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A/N: Well I did promise a speedy update to make up for the lost time. I will also be disappearing for a week for vacation so the next update may be a little slow. I apologize to those whose stories I normally review, I promise to catch up when I get back.
Breon Briarwood – Well I doubt this could be called a proper meeting and I don't have a detailed explanation for Bilbo. I'm afraid recapping would just be backtracking and inevitably slowing down the course of the story. Sorry but I do hope you are enjoying.
Stoneage – Sorry "In Dreams Worlds Wait" will have to wait until I get back. I do have an ending mapped out though I have to admit it is rather self indulgent in a way and most people probably won't like it. But sometimes an author's just got to indulge in oneself. Fear not, I will be continued and is almost done anyway. Many thanks for the compliment.
Laurajslr – I'm sorry I haven't reviewed the latest chapter to your story, fact is I haven't even got a chance to read it and I won't until I get back. I promise to catch up with reviews. That line was one of my favorites too. Short and very strong. Any novels that happen to be floating in my head I suppose can be considered top secret, in fact most of them haven't even let me in on it yet. Very frustrating plots are, stubborn as hobbits if you ask me.
Leia Wood – Well for starters I'm very glad you are enjoying my story and as for whatever I plan to get published I am still very unsure about it. Mainly it began as a completely 2D character personifying my own eccentricities about control and plots centered around such are very rarely stable so it would need a lot of fleshing out. It will probably not be fantasy, though that is normally my favorite genre it will be a while before I flesh out enough geography, history, and ::gulp:: language before I can start on my fantasy world.
Endymion2 – I happen to be going on vacation as well, another reason why I wanted to get this up so quick. I'm proud of myself for pounding it out so quickly and I'm pretty satisfied. And, yes, I'd definitely say that Frodo is making progress, especially in this chapter though that will be made clearer in the chapters to come.
ShireElf – Ah, you are catching on very quickly indeed. I'm glad you are paying attention. "Will Frodo learn not to be so dependent on Sam?" Well he may be forced to learn now won't he? Things will be made clearer in chapters to come.
Frodo's Gal – I'm glad you are enjoying both my fics. I hope your family liked "In Dreams Worlds Wait" as well. It should be done soon, much sooner than this story anyway. Enjoy!
Ailsa Joy – Yes that was one of my favorite lines as well. You reviewed this just in time. I was just about to put up this chapter when I got your review. Heh maybe you'll read this chapter in the same night, more procrastination anyone? But homework!? Is it not Summer for you? I've just been enjoying the past half a month locked up in my room with a random assortment of Arias, Rachmaninov, and Mozart reading and writing like mad. Surely you should do the same. I'd say it's good for your sanity but I doubt mine is the average desired mental state. ::serene smile::